


Defying the Numbers

by mia6363



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Backstory, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:35:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia6363/pseuds/mia6363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann didn’t have the courage to tell Newton that he was having a crisis of faith. That he didn’t want numbers, math, to be God’s handwriting, not anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defying the Numbers

The very first memory Hermann had of his mother was her reading to him before bed. He couldn’t remember the exact story, just that they had all been filled with the fantastic and spectacle. Back then, Hermann watched the world through rose-colored glasses because to him the world was a truly beautiful place with endless possibilities. 

His mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor when he was seven. She told him to keep believing, but the numbers—the statistics—against her won.

That was when Hermann stopped seeing beauty in the world. 

::::

Hermann had been in Massachusetts when the first Kaiju appeared in San Francisco. He’d been at MIT for a conference and was waiting in the auditorium when people began to run to for shelter. Herman was one of those running, and he fell. He was terrified because the chances he was going to be trampled to death because of the hysteria around him was almost certain—

Two hands grabbed him and yanked him up.

“Are you all right?” A screechy voice, matched with wild green eyes behind glasses, invaded Hermann’s vision. Hermann nodded and the man (who had no tattoos back then) grabbed Hermann’s hand. “Come on, dude, let’s get out of here.”

The man led him to a bunker deep underground and Hermann sat with his back against the wall in the dimly lit room. His new companion sat next to him, his foot bouncing and his Converse sneakers squeaking. 

“Did you see that thing?”

“No,” Hermann spoke quietly. “I only heard… and ran with the others.”

The man shook his head, and while others were crying and holding onto each other, his eyes were wide with an awe that made Hermann apprehensive. 

“When you get a chance after this, look up the video. It looked like a dinosaur, just coming out of the ocean—I mean, the jaw structure, the eye placement, it’s got that prehistoric look, you’ll see what I’m talkin’ about—”

A woman turned with a small boy tucked into her side.

“ _Shut up_! You’re scaring everyone!” 

The man hiccupped, and he fell silent until the woman turned around. The man’s expression… it wasn’t anger or embarrassment, just confusion, like he could not understand why everyone around him couldn’t find the wonder in what was happening, even if it was tarrying. It made Hermann’s throat tight and his vision blurry because the last time he felt that, he’d been very small. 

In the dark room he leaned close to the man.

“A dinosaur?” 

The man snapped out of his trance and he nodded, lowering his voice to a whisper, his breath tickling Hermann’s ear. 

“Well, that’s what it _looked_ like; it obviously can’t be a real dinosaur. I just wish… I could get a hand on its remains, you know? This is _alien life_ we’re talking about here.” The man stopped and held out his hand. “I’m Newt Geiszler.” 

Hermann’s manners and adrenalin had him shaking Newt’s hand. 

“Dr. Hermann Gottlieb.” 

Newt’s hand was warm and for the rest of their time, Newt and Hermann squashed themselves close together, their shoulders pressing against each other as they spoke of biology and numbers. It calmed Hermann until the lump in his throat was gone. He even began to get drunk, in a way, because when he talked, Newt listened. Not with the over-dramatic awe, wonder, or pity that often was aimed at prodigies. 

Instead, Newt smiled and would retort with something biological, he’d scratch his head at the proofs that made up Hermann’s very being, while Hermann sometimes struggled (but managed) to keep up to Newt’s fast way of bouncing from subject to subject.

Six hours later, the bunker doors opened. Newt and Hermann stumbled out with the others and Newt’s fingers were twitching as he dug into his pockets for something. Whatever it was, he came up with nothing. Newt made a short distressed sound before flashing Hermann with a brilliant smile. 

“I, uh, well—it was fun. You know, for hoping not to die.” Hermann didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded. Newt’s smile deflated a little and he smacked Hermann’s shoulder. “Well, I hope to see you around, okay?”

Just like that, Newt was gone, melting into the crowd. Hermann wondered if he’d just let his first chance at having a friend slip through his fingers.

::::

When Hermann was in college at fourteen years old, he figured out that the numbers were against him when it came to having friends. No one wanted to talk to the awkward adolescent. He saw men and women look at him with a mixture of wary fascination and pity.

Always pity.

The numbers told Hermann that he was a man that would always be alone… that while humanity would never let him in, Hermann would always have a home with numbers.

::::

Forty-eight hours after the second Kaiju attack, Hermann went into his office at Cambridge, only to find a stranger already occupying it. He stood tall in a military uniform, and his dark eyes locked Hermann where he stood.

“Dr. Gottlieb, might I have a word?”

 

Hermann raised his chin, knowing that he was about to get recruited to try and stop the end of the world.

“Of course, sir.”

After five minutes, Hermann was on a helicopter heading toward Hong Kong. He knew that he flew out to almost certain death. These beasts were massive, and with the extremely limited information they had, victory was… elusive. But Hermann could either die doing nothing, or he could die trying to stop the monsters. As the helicopter landed and the cold wind stung Hermann’s face, he knew he’d made the right choice. 

“You will join a team of other bright minds like yourself, Dr. Gottlieb.” They walked in past crowds of people struggling against a military barricade, and Hermann soon found himself staring at a colossal complex. Stacker led him inside and Hermann’s jaw dropped.

Sparks rained down from the high ceilings like falling stars, and they illuminated large metal bodies. Robots. Stacker’s lips quirked up.

“You see, Dr. Gottlieb, we’ll be ready for the next one. We call them Jaegers.” 

A group of men and women stood at the foot of one of the Jaegers. Some Hermann would get to know, many he would not. A man who introduced himself as Tendo shook his head with a curt, “Welcome to the team.” It was hard to tear his eyes away from the Jaeger because the numbers drastically rearranged themselves. 

Death suddenly wasn’t so close. They had a chance. 

“Holy shit, _Hermann_?” A loud shout tore Hermann out of his reverie. A man gaped at him and the name Newt Geiszler floated to the front of his mind. Newt didn’t even look at Stacker; he just went up and stuck out his hand. Hermann weakly shook it as Stacker raised his eyebrows. 

“I see you already know Dr. Newton Geiszler.” 

Herman didn’t know what to say and Newton elbowed Hermann. 

“Where the hell did you go? I thought you were a new professor or something.” 

“I was just there for a conference.”

Newton stuck his lower lip out.

“Oh. Well… I guess that makes sense. Man, I felt so bad about not getting a number or at least an email address, you know—”

“Dr. Geiszler!” Stacker’s voice boomed and Newton’s shoulders jumped. Hermann had a hard time looking away from Newton because their first meeting was years ago, yet Newton spoke about it as if it were yesterday. Hermann did too, but only because he was always alone, so the rare moments when he wasn’t stood out to him. But Newton… he was loud, he moved around a lot with massive energy, and Hermann could easily see people drifting toward Newton like moths to a flame. No one drifted toward Hermann. “Dr. Gottlieb, let me show you to your lab and quarters.” 

Stacker steered Hermann away. People were already back to work. Everyone except Newton. When Hermann looked back, Newton caught his eye; and made his back and shoulders stiff and he marched like a toy soldier. 

Hermann couldn’t help it, he smiled. 

When Newton smiled back, Hermann knew he was in trouble.

::::

Hermann’s first lab partner was a woman. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember her name. She never spoke to him and he never spoke to her. They stayed on opposites sides of the room, scrawling across chalkboards. While Hermann was in the labs late one night, he heard her voice slither from around the corner. 

“—yeah, he’s a total freak. I mean, like it isn’t just math and numbers. I mean, that would be absolutely miserable.” 

Hermann turned the corner and walked past her, telling himself that the tense silence that followed didn’t bother him. He peered inside the other labs until he found what he was looking for. 

The first impression he got from Newton and his partner’s lab was that it was absolute chaos. Back then, they only had a few coolers filled with various hunks of Kaiju meat. Newton’s lab partner had been a young man, blonde and the kind of pretty that made Hermann’s skin crawl with envy. Newton’s hands and tattooed arms were buried deep inside something that smelled revolting. 

Newt looked up and grinned.

“Hermann!” He waved and sent a line of guts across the room. “Come on in, man.”

Even though it was messy and disgusting, Hermann wanted to be in there. He wanted Newton to smile at him, even if it was all just pretend. 

Newton’s lab partner squinted at Hermann like he was confused as to why Newton was talking to him. Hermann’s chest constricted in his chest and he pulled away from the door. 

“Perhaps some other time, Dr. Geiszler. I’m quite tired.”

Hermann turned away before he could see Newton’s reaction. 

::::

Five Kaiju attacks and defeats later, Newton came into Hermann’s lab with a determined look on his face that made Hermann lose track of thought. 

“You haven’t been in the mess hall for weeks. Let’s go and get some food or you might actually starve to death.”

Hermann was dragged out of the lab by the same hands that saved him from the panic at MIT. He let himself be pulled out of the Shatterdome and down crowded streets until they found a hole in the wall with menus used as wallpaper. At one point, Hermann’s stomach growled loud enough to make him flush and Newton laughed, but his hand was warm in Hermann’s shoulder.

They sat in the corner and would go from talking to shoving rice, chicken, and pork into their mouths. During one of their breaks from eating, Newton ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Ugh, I hate my lab partner. He’s a serious creep.”

Hermann leaned forward, not caring that his elbows stuck to the table.

“How so?”

Newton’s face twisted into a grimace.

“He’s like… got a Kaiju _fetish_. I mean, the Kaiju are amazing creatures and I respect them as a, you know, completely new species, but this guy, _Kyle_ , keeps trying to get me to watch like, Kaiju-themed porn with him. Total creep.” Hermann’s annoyance with the blonde pretty boy Kyle increased exponentially as Newton blew out a long breath. “Anyway, what’s your partner like?”

For once Hermann wasn’t sure how to answer a question.

“She does not like me very much. But it doesn’t matter.” Hermann watched Newton stretch, at his Kaiju tattoos that went up his arms and no doubt continued until they covered a good portion of his chest. Kaiju weren’t like numbers. They were not a constant. Newton’s cheeks were stuffed with rice when Hermann voiced a question that been on his mind for a while. “What will you do when all the Kaiju are dead, Dr. Geiszler?”

Newton swallowed and went still. His leg didn’t bounce and his fingers didn’t tap incessantly on the table. His eyes went distant for a few moments as he didn’t answer. He didn’t speak and Hermann felt like he should apologize, but he wasn’t sure what he’d be apologizing for. It was a fact—either the Kaiju would be dead—or the human race would be eradicated. Newton’s body hummed, thrived, and lived on the fascination he had.

He burned so brightly… sometimes it was hard to look. 

Newton chattered all the way back to the Shatterdome, almost hysterically because Hermann couldn’t keep up with it. People were gathered at the gate—protestors, frightened masses. Newton’s voice was lost as he spoke into his phone, telling someone to let them in.

Hermann remembered turning toward the crowd, remembering the mad rush at MIT, and that was when he saw the bright-eyed man with a gun—and it was pointed right at the back of Newton’s head.

The door’s opened and Hermann shoved himself between the gun and Newton, hitting the crazed man’s arm. The gun went off, Newton turned, and Hermann screamed. He remembered looking down at his left kneecap, with all the blood, and he remembered Newton shrieking his name as the gunman was shot by a soldier. 

Newton clung to him and Hermann tried to stay awake, but the pain pulled him under.

::::

Consciousness returned in brief, fleeting flashes. 

He remembered bloody sheets, and doctors standing over him—and he couldn’t tell if it Newt screaming and fighting to get past a nurse was a pain-induced hallucination. Or, if the following flash of Stacker calmly informing her that _“The old rules have died in war, miss. We’re each other’s family now,”_ which let Newton pass and be by Hermann’s side was also false. 

Hermann wasn’t sure of a lot of things, not during that tumultuous time when he was in so much pain that there were moments when he actually hoped for death. 

He passed out.

:::::

When he came to, this time knowing he was really awake, he was in a manageable amount of pain. His leg was throbbing and aching like it would never stop—and his right hand was sweating. Hermann turned his head on the scratchy hospital pillow to see Newton there, snoring, with Hermann’s hand in a death-grip.

Hermann tried to move, he wasn’t sure what for, but just the twinge to change his body’s position made him choke—it hurt so much.

Of course Newton woke up at the noise, his eyes bleary and bloodshot.

“Hermann, Hermann—” Newt shoved his glasses up with his free hand. “How long have you been awake? Do you want anything? How’s your leg? Do you remember anything?”

Everything hurt and Hermann ground his teeth.

“I just woke up, I want this pain to end, my leg bloody hurts, and I don’t know. Everything I guess?”

Newt jumped up, finally releasing Hermann’s hand, and showed Hermann a button attached to a thin, clear tube, one that was connected to a needle in his arm. 

“You push this, all right? Push this, and you get the good drugs and you’ll forget what the word pain even means. At least… that’s what the nurse said would happen.” Newt’s fingers jumped over the button, his breath stale but his smile bright. “It’s good to see you awake and grouchy, Hermann.”

Hermann would have had a clever retort ready to spill out of his mouth but his finger was pressing down hard on the pain relief button. He didn’t think it would start instantly, but fortunately it did. He would have worried about what kind of painkillers was being injected into him, but Newton was right.

Pain had no meaning. 

Everything felt so weightless; the colors began to haze over. Hermann sighed and then looked down at his leg.

Whatever drugs he was on could mask physical pain, but it didn’t help the disgusted and horrified thud in his chest when he saw his left leg.

It was mangled. His knee… the blood soaked through the bandages and he was reaching to lift the cloth before Newton could stop him. 

When he saw it—when he saw what was left of his kneecap—his throat tightened so quickly that it punched the breath out of him. 

His vision was blurred, but that didn’t stop the number changing, the statistics—they were already against him and that had been before he was shot. 

He wasn’t handsome, particularly likeable, and all during his adolescence and young adult years, when he should have been developing some kind of social skills, he was memorizing proofs, living by mathematics. His chances of finding someone to be his friend, someone who would enjoy his company and he could enjoy spending time with them, were down to thirteen percent. 

Chances of love—of a sexual or romantic partner—had been nine percent. 

The painkillers—they didn’t dampen Hermann’s mind. Thirteen percent dropped to eight and a half. 

Nine… dropped to two and a half. 

Crippled… with great chances of being in constant pain—who would want to share that with a partner? 

A noise ripped Hermann’s eyes off his mangled knee. Newt was near him, his eyes wide and his lips parted. He kept staring at Hermann, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Hermann grimaced because he was pretty sure he wasn’t speaking out loud, but he couldn’t be sure; his throat was scratchy. 

“Hermann…”

The pity that dripped off his voice made Hermann recoil.

“Get out.” Hermann felt an ugly hatred unfurl in him. He hated the way Newton’s eyes were shining, like he had an idea of what it felt like—like he knew what it was to have the slim chances of happiness ripped away from him. Newton opened his mouth and Hermann squeezed his eyes shut. “I said _get out!_ ”

When Hermann opened his eyes, Dr. Geiszler was gone. 

::::

Newton stayed away for three days. The doctors were weaning Hermann off of the painkillers and he was lonely. He had bits and pieces of memories—of shouting at Newton.

Someone knocked at the door, and when Hermann looked up, his heart thudded in his chest. Newton had a bag and a small smile.

“Hey.” 

The silence that grew between them was awful. Hermann wished he knew how to dissipate it in some charming way. Instead, he stretched his lips into a thin smile. 

“Good morning, Dr. Geiszler.” 

Newton paused awkwardly before shuffling to the bed, holding out the bag. Hermann opened it and was overwhelmed with a mouth-watering scent—one that he hadn’t experienced since he was a boy. 

Inside were pastries, still warm, with cream filling. He looked up at Newton, his lips parted in what was no doubt an undignified expression of wonder. Newton scratched the back of his head. 

“So… the thing is, I speak German too, so when you’re talking with your mom—I just remembered you like these. And I may have traded in a lot of favors to get those made for you.” Newton dragged over a chair and sat down so he could whisper quickly in Hermann’s ear. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Stacker’s one hell of a baker.”

Everything was so unbelievable. When he bit into the pastry, he tasted childhood—the belief that some things could still make him sit back in awe. 

They shared the pastries, and Hermann thought back to their taste and warmth when he had to go through two weeks of brutal physical therapy and learning how to walk and not be in unbearable amounts of pain. 

He wasn’t surprised when he went into his lab to see that his old partner was gone, replaced with Newton and all his mess. Newton looked up, his hair in total disarray, and Hermann knew he looked terrible, pale, thin, and struggling not to shake while holding his cane. 

He managed to keep his lip stiff and his posture straight. 

“We’ll need to divide the lab in half. I don’t want your mess cluttering my space.”

Newton grinned.

“You got it.”

For a brief sliver in time, Hermann forgot all about his leg. He lost himself in chalk dust and equations, occasionally conversing (arguing) about the Kaiju with Newton. It wasn’t until they both grew tired and the end of the day arrived, that Hermann’s leg throbbed and he looked at his stack of notebooks that he… could only carry a few of. 

Without a word, Newton scooped them all up. 

“All right, let’s go, dude.” 

Hermann and Newton luckily lived next to each other. Hermann opened the door and let it swing open. He hobbled inside, Newt plopping the books on a clear spot on his desk. Hermann was going to thank him, to wish him a good night, but he was staring at his shower with a mixture of dread and humiliation. 

When he snapped out of it, he saw that Newton was staring at it, too. 

Perhaps in a few weeks, there could be bars installed so that Hermann could hold onto something while he cleaned himself, and he could fashion a loofah on the end of a stick—

But he hadn’t thought of that at all. He hadn’t had time to think. Newton cleared his throat. 

“This is going to sound weird… but have you tested to see how far you can bend forward ever since…” 

_You got shot_ was left unsaid, and Hermann appreciated that. He shook his head, swallowing thickly. 

“I can’t really bend forward all the much, it hurts but…” His breath seemed to rush out of his lungs. “I’ll figure something out, I’ll be fine—”

“Okay, I know you’re all about… not letting people in and stuff, but… if you need help, I don’t think this is something you should let your pride get in the way of.” Hermann opened his mouth and Newton immediately held up his hands. “Just take a breath. And think about… about it, you know?”

Newton stayed, and Hermann concede that… Newton was right. Hermann sighed.

“You… you won’t tell anyone—”

“Of course not.” Newton scoffed. “I’m not a total asshole.” 

Hermann tried to “play it cool,” as he clumsily stripped off his sweater vest and unbuttoned his shirt, but his hands shook so hard he almost tore off a button. Hermann glanced at Newton, who had his back to Hermann and was taking off his shirt, revealing a thin, white undershirt. His partially completed sleeve was exposed, and Hermann was distracted by the colors before dragging his eyes away as he unzipped his slacks. 

“I’m going to keep my underwear on.”

Newton nodded and turned back around, his cheeks pink.

“Sure thing.” Newton kicked off his shoes and pants and turned on the shower, testing it with his hand as Hermann shivered outside, staring at some of the tattoos that curled on his calf. “Okay, it’s warm.”

Hermann glanced up and almost smiled when he saw Newton. His hair was damp, and his glasses had beads of water and fog clouding the lenses. Hermann swallowed. 

“I don’t know… I don’t want to be an inconvenience, Dr. Geiszler.”

Newton bit his lip, and his wet hand bumped Hermann’s. 

“It’s okay,” Newton shrugged as he stepped under the water first, before Hermann. “Look, I know I’m not like, the poster-child for being a reliable guy, but if we can’t help each other, who will?” Newton smiled. “And, how about for now, you can call me Newton?” 

That was how Hermann found himself rubbing soap between his palms before passing it to Newton, who was on his knees and looking anywhere but at Hermann’s brief-covered crotch. Which, the white cloth soon didn’t matter, not under the water. 

Hermann was sure that once he got used to being… crippled, he’d have a way to wash his own legs. That he’d figure out what his limitations were and, using his cane and hopefully some bars installed in the shower, he’d be able to shower alone. But he still ached and just the thought of trying to bend down made his leg throb, pain shooting from his knee all the way up to his hip. 

Hermann wiped down his arms and neck with soap, quickly scrubbing his face. It felt strange because moments later, Newton’s hands were on his legs, working thoroughly and quickly. Hermann shampooed and conditioned his hair, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of Newton’s fingers from his legs. 

As the last of the conditioner washed from Hermann’s hair, Newton stood, wiping his eyes behind his wet glasses. 

Newton’s face was red, his lips parted, and he blinked owlishly behind his glasses at Hermann. Hermann realized how exposed he was, dripping wet with only white (now partially see-through) underwear covering him. They were close, almost sharing the same breath, and Hermann felt the tips of his ears get hot. Newton took a breath, like he was going to say something, but he didn’t. 

Newton shook his head, sending a light spray of water everywhere as he got Hermann a towel before taking one for himself. 

The silence was strange, uncomfortable, while it had been strangely serene in the shower. Hermann wasn’t sure what to do, and that was when Newton turned around, his eyes carrying a determined gleam in them. 

“Do you want to go out for dinner sometime?” Hermann wasn’t sure how to react, feeling over exposed, and Newton swallowed loudly. “Not like last time, I mean—we’ll still be getting food, obviously, but I was thinking that this time—if it’s okay with you, of course—maybe it could be a date this time.” 

Hermann’s face got even hotter. His voice was unbearably hoarse. 

“Are you—are you serious?” 

Newton grimaced and an angry half-shout came out of his mouth. 

“Come on, Hermann, every little thing that happens to you isn’t the end of the world. I mean, yes, it _is_ the end of the world, but this is just—we’re just two guys going on a date. Because you piss me off but I also like you. Feelings are fucking complicated, all right, but whatever, I just thought maybe you and I could go to dinner and just—”

“Okay.” Hermann was too shocked to smile, as he supposed many people would when accepting an offer to a date. “Okay, Newton, we can do that.”

Newton’s tirade stopped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he adjusted his glasses.

“Really?” Hermann nodded. “Yes! All right. Um, I’ll um, pick you up tomorrow. At eight.” 

Hermann chuckled a little. 

“So after work?”

Newton nodded and shivered. 

“Yeah. Um. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Newton’s huge grin was infectious. It made Hermann believe that maybe it wasn’t a terrible idea. 

::::

Red marinara sauce flecked on Newton’s white shirt as he spun his fork around long noodles. Hermann slipped a single piece of tortellini in his mouth.

“I can’t bloody believe you were a professor.”

Newt nodded. 

“Oh yeah, dude. I mean, they thought I was nuts, but eh, it’s college man, you gotta grow up. If those kids can’t handle a wacky professor, then they’re gonna be in for a suck-tastic adulthood.” Newt shrugged, smiling as his eyes drifted to the left. “It was boring, but the kids, they were cool, you know? They made it fun.”

“I suppose.” Hermann took a sip of his wine. They’d ordered in and ended up eating in Hermann’s room. “Bright students. The exceptional were interesting enough.”

Hermann hadn’t been a professor in it for the teaching; he was more interested in research. But he did respect the development of young minds. Newton grinned cheekily. 

“You got into teaching for the clothes.” He winked. “The sexy, alluring, grandpa sweater vests that mask a hot bod.” 

Even though Newton exuded confidence, his ears were bright red. Hermann rolled his eyes. 

“I thought a first date was supposed to be when people are nice and lie to each other in the hopes of having sex.”

Newton kicked Hermann’s foot underneath the table Hermann had cleared for their dinner. 

“Dude, we’ve been working together for a while now. I’m pretty sure if I lied, you’d know.” His pink cheeks and ears were endearing, even as Newton drank more wine. “And please, I can be classy. I’m not expecting sex on the first date.” 

The underlying implication of future sexual endeavors made Hermann’s skin itch in a way that wasn’t unpleasant. He finished his wine and figured that if he had a chance to break free from the statistics mounted against him, he might as well go for it.

Hermann wiped his mouth with a napkin. 

“Pity. I was looking forward to see the expanse of those tattoos.”

Newton laughed, but then stopped quickly when Hermann didn’t smile or offer a wink to ease the tension.

“Wait, are you serious?” Hermann raised an eyebrow and Newton swallowed. “You’re serious. You’re being serious, right? You want to have sex? Tonight?” Hermann nodded, shoving down the anxious, nervous, and aroused buzz that shot down his spine. “Like right now or—”

Hermann shrugged, hoping he didn’t seem nervous. 

“If you want dessert first—”

Newton stood up quickly, the chair scraping the floor loudly between him. 

“Screw dessert, this is way more—you’re way more—” Newton was crossing over, pushing the table out of the way, and he was stooping down, but then he paused. “I mean, were you kidding? Can I kiss you—?”

Hermann pulled Newton into the kiss by his tie. Newton took a moment to get the picture, that yes, Hermann was actually _kissing him_. Soon Newton was opening his mouth, letting his tongue slide through Hermann’s lips and caress his tongue. It made Hermann shiver and Newton was shaking, always on the move, and his teeth clipped Hermann’s upper lip roughly.

“Sorry.” Newton’s breath stuttered out of his mouth. He gripped Hermann’s shoulders hard and kissed him softly, almost too soft. “I’m sorry, Herm.” 

The next series of kisses were desperate in a way that didn’t ring of sex, but sorrow, and Hermann had a feeling that Newton wasn’t apologizing for biting his lip. 

Newton finally pulled away for air and Hermann watched Newton lick his lips and swallow _hard_. 

“Would you like to go to bed, Newton?”

It was a silly question, one that Newton didn’t make Hermann feel stupid for asking. He just pulled Hermann to his feet and helped him to bed, kissing him the moment Hermann was on the mattress. 

That night, Hermann greedily swallowed Newton’s desperate moans, he savored the stuttered jerk of Newton’s hips right before he came, and he memorized the way Newton’s pupils blew open wide as his cock jerked with ejaculation. 

Newt nuzzled into Hermann’s side after, his arm thrown across Hermann’s chest. His eyes blinked lazily in the dark and Hermann pulled the blankets over them both. He closed his eyes, his heart rate starting to return to normal, and he swore that he heard Newt speak right before he fell asleep. 

“Herm… we should have been doing this since day one.”

Hermann wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not. He knew that approximately six hours later, he woke up with Newt drooling on his shoulder and the sheets kicked around their thighs. 

Four months later Hermann, found himself requesting a larger mattress and for his quarters to be shared with Newton. To Stacker’s credit, he just nodded briefly and said, “I’ll see what I can do, Dr. Gottlieb.” 

::::

It wasn’t all peachy ramblings and mind-blowing sex.

Hermann and Newton would still scream at each other when they were both high strung. Moving from the Arctic to Hong Kong was stressful enough; Newton micromanaging every piece of Kaiju organ while Hermann couldn’t help but allow the gloom of the _apocalypse_ settle over him. 

He found himself getting more and more short with Newton, taking cheap shots—and when he did, it he felt like he was looking at himself through a window, too late to tell himself to stop, to shut _up_. It was always too late, a second too late. 

The rain was cold and stung his cheeks and his leg throbbed more and more. He would stay awake, curled over his coffee and analyzing proofs and equations, watching the numbers crunch down until they predicted an inevitable triple event. It made his heart hammer and lurch in his chest cavity. 

At night, his mother would haunt him. Her promise of the majestic… he could see it in the tattooed form in his bed. In Newt, who would stir awake at four in the morning and rub his eyes. 

“Herm?” It didn’t matter that they’d screamed at each other until they were hoarse. Newt let it all slip away once they were in the bedroom—and it made Hermann feel worse, it made his stomach tighten because he didn’t want Newton to _die_. Hermann desperately wanted his equations to be wrong because he _didn’t want Newton to die_. “Why are you awake? Come on, man.”

Each night, Hermann would watch, helpless, as Newton dragged himself out of bed to slip his arms around Hermann, kissing under his ear. 

On the nights when Hermann would not be budged (i.e. most nights), Newton would shack up next to him, and start work early that day. He never asked what kept Hermann awake; he never asked why Hermann’s words grew more biting every day. He took it, and dished it out just as hard. Hermann supposed he was pushing Newton away as a method of self-preservation. 

Hermann didn’t have the courage to tell Newton that he was having a crisis of faith. That he didn’t want numbers, math, to be God’s handwriting, not anymore.

The number would fluctuate and change, right before his eyes—and when Newton brought up drifting with a Kaiju brain, Hermann lost it. He took a shot at Newton’s ego; he called him a groupie, he used smugness as a shield as to tell Newton that he’d end up dead if he ever tried something so foolish. He knew that Newton was too busy dealing with the hurt of Hermann’s words to hear them waver, to know that Hermann could see those numbers—Newton’s life— diminishing away. 

He hobbled down the hallway, and looking back he couldn’t remember why he left, why on Earth he left—

When he came back—he thought he’d lost everything. 

“Newton!” Hermann threw his cane down, aching, painful leg be damned, and ripped the makeshift drifting device off of him. His throat was tight and he remembered ripping open Newton’s shirt, his eyes wet as he struggled to hear Newton’s heartbeat over the panicked roar in his ears. “Newt!”

The thudding cadence of _life_ … a life that defied the numbers, made Hermann blink. 

Newton had lived—he’d done the impossible—and had _lived_. Hermann almost laughed as he propped Newt up against the tank and hobbled as fast he could to get Stacker. 

::::

On a bright summer’s day a long, long time ago, Hermann had asked his mother what love was. 

It had been a time when numbers were just starting to come into his life, when he was already hungry for science, for clear and concrete answers to the way life came together to form their planet, their way of living. He remembered the cicadas’ hum and how the sun sparkled against the tree leaves. 

She had laughed and ruffled his hair, encouraging him to sit down, even though he’d get grass stains on his pants. 

_“Love,”_ she said with a bright smile, _“is finding someone who is the exception to your most valued and unwavering rules.”_

At the time, it hadn’t meant anything to him.

Hermann stared into Newton’s eyes, those bright eyes that scared him with their furious passion. The words still hung in the air, and Newton’s expression of shock, disbelief, and gratitude still clung to his face before he turned back to the baby Kaiju. 

“Ready?” Newton put the drifting helmet over Hermann’s head. Hermann nodded. Newton looked like he wanted to say something different, but instead, he blinked rapidly. “Okay. Drifting with the Kaiju brain in three, two, one—”

Newton’s voice was lost, and Hermann’s mind was overwhelmed with— _Newton Geiszler._

Newton as a child, rambunctious, even as a toddler—his mind excelling at what it put its mind to, his first tattoo—meeting Hermann in the shelter at MIT—being recruited by Stacker—the thrill and excitement of seeing Hermann _(cutesweatervestdoctor)_ again—watching Hermann out of the corner of his eye, admiring him, wanting to get closer—the savage horror of seeing Hermann get shot, for him—the doctors operating on him with Newton fighting, screaming until he lost his voice to let him by Hermann’s side _(feardesperationpleaseHermannnonononoplease)_ —helping Hermann shower _(lustguiltlustlustLUST)—_

Their first kiss. It blossomed in Newton’s mind like a flower. 

Their fights. Guilt shrouded them, and Newton thought that Hermann had finally started to hate him for his leg, that Hermann _blamed_ him for being crippled. 

All of that was in Hermann’s mind for a brief second before he had time to focus on the Kaiju and saving the world. To fighting against the numbers. 

After he threw up and wiped around his mouth, he looked up at Newton’s eyes. Wet streaks ran through the dirt on his face. Hermann didn’t know what he could say, he didn’t know what he wanted to say first—whether it was to reassure him that he didn’t blame Newt, he never did—that he fought against the numbers for him—that he loved Newt so much that it terrified him—he couldn’t speak. He wanted to say too many things at once. 

He settled for pulling Newton into a hug, for feeling his heart beat steadily against his chest. Newt squeezed Hermann tightly, mouthing four words against Hermann’s cheek. 

_I love you too._

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this pairing and from Hermann's point of view... so I hope it works for you guys, let me know. 
> 
> Also, thanks for Rendianami for being my beta. Without her suggestions this wouldn't be polished or finished. Thank you for your honesty! 
> 
> Comments and criticisms are love!


End file.
